2014-03-30 – Lent 4 Sermon: “Blind To Seeing” – John 9

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Lent 4a, (March 30, 2014)
Holy Cross Lutheran Church
Rev. Todd A. Peperkorn
(John 9)

Sermon 3-30-14.mp3

TITLE: “Blind to Seeing”

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen. Our text for today is the Gospel just read from St. John chapter nine.

Who sinned, the man or his parents? That was the question they asked of Jesus. The man before Him had been blind from birth. This was no temporary illness, not injury or sudden onslaught from disease or malnourishment. He was broken to the core, from the time of his birth.

Whenever we see something terrible happening to someone else, there is one part of us that assumes he or she somehow deserved it. What sin had they committed in order to bear such a punishment? In Jesus’ day, this was even more so than now. A sickness was the sign of sin, and a sickness from birth was even a greater sin. This person was unclean from the very beginning. They could not enter into the presence of God, because of their imperfections

So it should come as no surprise that Jesus’ disciples wanted to know where He stood on such matters. Was it this man’s sin, or his parents?

Notice that Jesus doesn’t exactly answer the question. He doesn’t say whether it was this man or his parents. I am reminded of the words from Exodus chapter twenty, which we learn from our catechism:

“I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate Me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love Me and keep My commandments.” [Ex. 20:5–6]

Now the answer that we would like to hear is that neither has sinned. The man isn’t blind, he is differently enabled. It is not that he is broken, it is that he has different gifts and abilities than other people.

While this is, of course, true in one sense, it is hard to get around the very simple reality that God created us to live, and to see, hear, touch, taste and smell. That is how God created us, and when things don’t work that way, well, clearly something is not right. We cannot let our love and compassion teach us to act as though nothing is wrong. And make no mistake about it, sickness is wrong. It is not how God intended us to live. Jesus Himself would say in the next chapter of John’s Gospel:

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10 ESV)

God did not create in order to destroy. He does not delight in brokenness, or in seeing how we make such a huge mess of our lives. Far from it. He comes so that they may have life, real, full, abundant life in Him.

This is why Jesus comes to this man born blind, spits on the ground to make a divine mud-paste, and puts it on the man’s eyes. Man was made from the dust of the ground, and so it is that Jesus remakes creation from the mud of the earth. He anoints the man’s eyes with the mud. Then the man washes his eyes, baptizes them if you will, and he sees.

The Pharisees are not happy about this. Jesus isn’t playing by the rulebook. He doesn’t realize the man is ritually unclean, and that there must be some secret sin that someone did in order to get him in such a state.

Now it’s not that Jesus didn’t care; it’s just that, well, He didn’t care! Sabbath or no Sabbath, Jesus’ work of restoring creation will not follow anyone else’s schedule. Likewise, the once blind man doesn’t know where all this came from. He doesn’t understand all the fuss here. The Pharisees make accusations and point fingers, remember laws that they have made up to serve their own purposes. At one point they accuse Jesus of being a public sinner who should be condemned. The formerly blind man’s response is pretty good:

““Whether he is a sinner I do not know. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.”” (John 9:25 ESV)

There is something deliciously, beautifully simple about this man’s response. I don’t claim to have all the answers, he says. But this I know, Jesus is the one who healed me.

So what does all of this mean to you, dearly baptized? It means this. St. Paul tells us that “…at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.” (Ephesians 5:8 ESV) Jesus Christ is God and man who came to earth to crush Satan underfoot, to rescue us from sin and death by His own death and resurrection. That’s who He is. That’s what He does.

Only the Son of God can do that. Only He can heal us of our sin, forgive us, and draw us up into God. He’s it. There is no one else that can do the things that He does.

Coming to Church is about receiving those gifts of God from the One who promises you all things. It is easy to give out advice. It is easy to give a motivational speech. Play the right music and you can get people into the mood for conversion. But only God can raise the dead. Only God can take poor, miserable sinners like you and me, lift us up and seat us at His heavenly table.

That is what God does for you here, in this place. He draws you here by His Word, and He heals you of your blindess. He heals you of your blind ignorance of His Word and Will. He heals you of your blindness to your neighbor and His need. And above all, He heals you so that you can look to Him for every need of body and soul.

That is what God does for you in this place. It is a place like no other, because He is a God like no other. Come, rest in the Word and Spirit of God Himself. Come and see the wonderful works of God, wrought for you on the cross and in the tomb, at the font and on this altar. Come and rejoice, for God Himself does all these things for you.

Believe it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

And now the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in true faith to life everlasting. Amen.

At the Well (Lent 3a, 2014)

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Lent 3a, (March 23, 2014)
Holy Cross Lutheran Church
Rev. Todd A. Peperkorn
(John 4:5–26)

TITLE: “At the Well”

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen. Our text for today is the Gospel just read from St. John chapter four.

The whole incident in John chapter four is rather strange. Not long after he had his nighttime conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus goes to a town of Samaria called Sychar. While he is there he is thirsty, and is sitting by a well. A woman comes by, a Samaritan woman, and Jesus asks her for a drink.

Now to you and me, this is not a big deal. He would like a drink but doesn’t have any way to get the water. He has nothing to use to draw the water from the well. Someone comes by and He asks for water. No big deal. Right? Wrong.

In Jesus’ day this was crossing the enemy lines. Jews and Samaritans never, never talk. They just don’t. They are sworn enemies. The Samaritans were half-breeds. They only accepted some of the Old Testament Bible. Many of them were considered traitors because they went along with the Romans in conquering the land. So for Jesus to ask her for a drink would be for us like siddling up to the bar with Charles Manson or someone equally evil, or worse. You just didn’t do it.

But Jesus did. Jesus went to this woman and asked for her help. He was not full of the pride and righteous indignation that infects us all. Pride of place and people and race. Pride of income and status. This pride had no place in our Lord, and so He asks for help. God’s glory is in showing mercy. That’s what makes him tick. That is who He is.

Before we move on to their conversation, it is worthwhile for us to stop and ponder the reality that Jesus asked for help. We value self-sufficiency above all things in our world. The young can’t wait to ride a bike so they can get away. Freedom! The teen or tween (?) can’t wait for a phone. Or a car! A job! Money! All the way to the end of our lives, that concept of independence is hard-wired into us as the goal, the very purpose for living. This is why it is so hard when you are set back on your kiester. You can’t drive like you once did. You may not be able to walk, or talk, or see, or hear, or many of the others things you did when you were young. We are all on that journey, some just farther along than others.

But Jesus here asks her to help him with the simple words, “Give me a drink.” Asking for help isn’t a sign of failure. It is, quite literally, divine. Jesus asks for and receives help from all sorts of people in the Bible, from Mary His mother all the way down to the women who cared for His body as He died. Receiving care from others is a sign of our humanity, and it is a sign that we are really, truly all in this together, this thing called life. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. It was okay for Jesus. It is okay for you.

Ok, back to our regularly scheduled sermon. So when Jesus asks the woman for help, she is agast. “How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?” Sometimes we learn something from God that is so startling, so strange and amazing that we just stop, sit back and wonder in amazement at what is really going on.

But things are going to get stranger for her: “Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”” (John 4:10 ESV)

She doesn’t get it, not yet at least. He’s starting to talk about living water, using word-pictures to paint a glorious landscape of who God is and how He is the life-giving one. In Him was life, and that life was the light of men, as St. John said earlier.

She doesn’t seem to get it any better than Nicodemus got all of the “born again” stuff last week! Jesus is the Living Water which comes down from heaven. He is the one who provides life, not just for now, but forever. He is the source of life itself, just like everything lives today by its connection to water.

But eventually things start to get complicated for our Samaritan woman. It seems she wants to receive His teaching about the living water. So Jesus asks her to call her husband and come here. The woman says she has no husband. Which wasn’t exactly true. She had been married and divorced five times. We don’t know the cause of these divorces. What Jesus is pointing out to her is what she already knew: her life was messed up, almost beyond recognition. Nothing seemed to make sense in that world.

But here’s the thing. Jesus knew how sinful and messed up she was. And He still called out to her with the Gospel. That’s the key. Her sins were sins, but they were just sins. No more, and no less than anyone else. This woman had been shunned by her community, and certainly by the Jews already. And here comes this man who claims to be the Living Water, and what does He offer her? Life. Real life. Life in Him by Water and the Word.

Jesus knows that she is so broken, so sinful and twisted up that she didn’t even know what to ask for. Like so many others in the Scriptures, she could rightly say, “Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner.” And He did.

So let’s bring this back to you. St. Paul reminds us in Romans chapter five that “…while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:6–8 ESV)

Jesus knows how weak you are, like that woman, like Paul, like the whole church before and today and tomorrow. He knows. And He says to you, “come and drink.” He bids you come and learn from Him, for He is gentle and kind. He knows your every weakness, your every secret sin and shame. He knows, but He does not hold them against you. Just the opposite, in fact. He takes those sins and carries them with Him to the cross, where they are nailed.

Jesus asked for help and received it. Today He offers you the help that you need in your weakness and sorrow, confusion and hurts and pains. Come and learn from Him. Come and drink of the living water which comes down from heaven. It will refresh you in the journey, and give you hope.

Believe it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

And now the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in true faith to life everlasting. Amen.

Under The Protection Of God (Ron Freeman Funeral Sermon 03-25-14)

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Funeral for Ron Freeman, (March 25, 2014)
Holy Cross Lutheran Church
Rev. Todd A. Peperkorn
(Psalm 91)

TITLE: “Under the Protection of God”

Kevin, Melinda, family, colleagues and friends of Ron: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen. Our text for today is from Psalm 91 as follows: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”” (Psalm 91:1–2 ESV)

Ronald Lee Freeman was born on December 24, 1946 in Ohio. He was baptized on April 10, 1947. He was confirmed in the Christian faith in 1961. While his life was long and varied, particular notice should be made of his 23 years of service in the United States Army, his service as a police officer, and the protective care he has provided to many throughout his life. He is proceeded in death by his mother, Patricia, and his son, Brian. Ron died in Christ on March 20 in the year of our Lord, 2014. “And I heard a voice from heaven saying, “Write this: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.” “Blessed indeed,” says the Spirit, “that they may rest from their labors, for their deeds follow them!”” (Rev. 14:13 ESV)

That Psalm we prayed a moment before, Psalm 91, is one that Ron and I prayed with his family several times over the past months. It is a hard thing when a man has spent his life protecting and caring for others, like Ron did, and then to be in a position of vulnerability. Alright, it isn’t hard. It really stinks. Ron did not belong in a hospital bed. He should not have been making decisions about dialysis and cancer treatments and chemotherapy and the wondering of what would happen next! As I watched Kevin keep vigil, and Melinda standing by his side, I couldn’t help but think that Ron had spent the better portion of his life watching over them, and others like them. Not the other way around.

But that is the grip which death has upon us, and upon this fallen world. The wages of sin is death, as St. Paul reminds us. And we are all dying, some sooner, some later. For Ron, it seemed like he was dying out of time. It wasn’t his turn yet. He still had things to do, places to see, people to meet. That’s the great evil of death. It is an interruption to life, it messes up the normal order of things. How is it that someone who survived two tours in Vietnam, decades in the army and police force, how is it that someone like that could die from a sick disease like cancer? It just isn’t right.

It is because death isn’t right that Jesus Christ came into the world. In the Christian Church, today is called the Annunciation of our Lord. It is nine months until Christmas, and so today is the day we remember when the angel Gabriel came to a girl named Mary, and told her that she would have a son, and would call His name Jesus, because He would save His people from their sins. Given that Ron was born on Christmas Eve, it seems appropriate that we remember this today.

If we could say anything about God, it is that He is the great protector. He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide in the shadow of the almighty. God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to take the punishment of sin and death for Ron, for you and for me. He did this so that when we die, and we will all die, when we die, it will not be the end of our story, but merely the end of a chapter.

Ron was not perfect. He was broken and a sinner in need of redemption. You know this. So did He. I’m sure there are a few stories that could be told here today, but perhaps we should save those for the reception…

But that’s why God’s Word meant so much to Ron. That’s why Ron was at peace every time He received Christ’s body and blood in the Lord’s Supper. He was covered with the mercy and love of God. The waters of Baptism means that even though we bury him today, that this is not the end of our brother, Ron.

You see, when Jesus rose from the dead, He didn’t just do it for Himself. Jesus rose from the dead for Ron, for me and for you. So now, Ron’s resting place is just that, a resting place. A stop in the journey. For on the last day Jesus Christ will raise Ron and all the dead, and give eternal life to Him and all believers in Christ.

Today we mourn and weep, for we miss Ron. His smile and his golf swing, his love of life and his love for his family and friends. We may weep today, but we weep knowing that God will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and that Ron and all believers in Christ will rise again from the dead on the last. As Job put it so well,

“For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God,” (Job 19:25–26 ESV)

So rest in peace, Ron. Rest in the comfort of Jesus’ death and resurrection, knowing that you are under the sheltering presence of God Himself. Rest in peace and don’t be afraid. You are under the protecting arms of God Himself, and we will be with you soon.

Believe it for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

And now the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in true faith to life everlasting. Amen.

The Peanut Gallery

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Penauyt

When I first moved to Wisconsin, there was a small group of women whom I lovingly called “the peanut gallery.” In their 70s and early 80s at the time, they were the ones who were at every event. They were the widows. Margaret, Dorothy, Jeannette, Trudy, perhaps a couple others whose names escape me. And Arbulah, or Arby for short. They always sat on the right side of the room for Bible class. They were the peanut gallery.

Somehow they respected me as their pastor, even though I was 45–60 years younger than them. When I came to them, I was a young pastor of 29 years old. Despite my youthful enthusiasm (and failures), somehow they listened to me. I honestly don’t understand why. Probably a sign of God’s grace to a new pastor, still wet behind the ears.

Over my dozen years or so at Messiah, I ended up burying most of them. One moved away, and the last one (Arby) just died in Christ this past week. My new friend, Pastor Jim Roemke at Messiah, will do her funeral on Saturday, while I’m teaching a seminar on funerals here in California. How I wish I could be with them.

Each one had their own characteristics that they brought to the gallery. Margaret brought the questions. Dorothy was always proper. Jeannette was, uh, unfiltered. Arby had the grip. There are many stories that could be told, some of them even in public! But each one of them taught me what it means to deliver God’s mercy to His flock.

Slowly but surely they stopped coming to church. Illness and old age got the best of them. Some died from cancer, others really just from getting old. Often there was some kind of dementia, but the stories never stopped. Sometimes they made sense, often they were the same stories, but I listened, and gave them Christ’s body and blood for the forgiveness of sins.

And slowly but surely, they taught me how to be a pastor.

It is very easy for pastors (and others for that matter) to extol their professors and teachers at college and seminary. Usually it is deserved. But there is no replacing the learning that happens from delivering the gifts, day after week after month after year after decade. And God in His mercy brings people into the pastor’s life, sheep who teach him how to be a shepherd.

For me, it was these women, the peanut gallery.

Today I met with a grieving family who had lost their loved one. We were preparing the funeral for a long time veteran, a man who loved his country, his church, his brother, and his girlfriend. He led an unfiltered life, now rests with the saints, and awaits the resurrection of the dead. I learned how to minister to him and to his family from those women, the peanut gallery.

I pray every pastor has a flock like Messiah, who teach him how to be a receiver and giver of care. Today there is a new peanut gallery. Today the names are Esther and Hattie, Ray and George and Kate and many others. My Dorothy now reminds me of my Dorothy from ten years ago. They are all God’s flock, the sheep of His pasture. May they ever be fed by His Body and Blood.

I’ll miss you, Arby. I wish I could be there tomorrow. I will try to sing EXTRA LOUD, though, so you can hear me. And say hi to the gang! I look forward to a joyous reunion in heaven.

In Christ,
Pastor Peperkorn

On Visits and My Mother

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The last few weeks have been rather intense at my congregation. We have had a lot of people in the hospital, at least for our small-medium sized congregation. Surgeries, treatments for various types of cancer and other long-term diseases, really all kinds of things. I would say this is all typical, but there is nothing “typical” for anyone who is suffering or ill. When you are in the midst of suffering, you are at the center. It is as if Satan (or God?) is pointing a great big spotlight on you and saying, “I wonder how they will react to this”.

In my congregation we are very blessed to have a deaconess. What this means in real congregational terms is that she and I tag-team making visitations. This is especially true when it comes to hospital calls. This way we are able to see to it that if someone is in the hospital, they will be visited more regularly. In the Sacramento area, hospitals span almost a 40 miles radius from church, through traffic. This, therefore, is really important.

I won’t deny it, seeing people who are sick or in the hospital is hard. It’s not that I don’t want to do it. I want to see them, very much. But I know that it takes a lot out of me, more than I think it should. [Probably my pride there…grrrrr…]

Anyway, a part of what always goes through my mind when I’m making these calls is my own mother, Susan. She died of cancer nine years ago. This past Sunday was her 67th birthday, so she has been on my mind more than usual.

Anytime I get tired of making these calls (or shut-in visits, for that matter), a part of what goes through my mind is “how important were these visits to your mother?” She suffered from depression, as do I. As a result of that, it was very easy for her to isolate herself from family, from friends, from the church. There were weeks or even months when she didn’t darken the door of the church. A lot of it was the combination of illnesses, but certainly part of it was the reality that sickness isolates us, separates us from those we love. I’m pretty sure I didn’t help much with that isolation.

It is easy to let the feelings of despair encompass you when there are things or people poking and prodding you, when there is no discernible end to the latest “treatment”, and when you are tired, just plain tired of all of the, uh, gunk that you are having to deal with every day. But it is at precisely that time that you need a visit with God’s Word and prayer. The voices in your head will not help you. You need hope, and it is the God of hope and encouragement that will lift you up.

So to the pastors and deaconesses all the others who make these calls, evening when they don’t feel like it: thank you. Your labor is not in vain. They need you, so give them the goods of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Take in their suffering, and care for them with the love that can only come from the One who loved us when we were yet sinners.

And to the parishioners and friends and others who are sick, or wrestling and struggling and in great need: let us visit you. You need that hope, and we want to see you. It’s who we are and what we do for the sake of God and all of your family of faith who love you. Call, text, email, Facebook (!), whatever means you need to do, let us know and we will be there. You will hear of the God who heals our sicknesses and infirmities, and who sits in that hospital bed with you, by your side, hurting when you hurt, and healing according to His good and gracious will.

Be at peace, friends! Jesus Christ has overcome the world, all sickness, and even death itself. The victory is yours.

In Christ,
Pastor Peperkorn